


On the occasion of moving in with an unfinished kitchen...

by ML Mead (moonlightmead)



Category: The Professionals
Genre: Domestic Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-04
Updated: 2014-01-04
Packaged: 2018-01-07 11:56:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 720
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1119549
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moonlightmead/pseuds/ML%20Mead
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Improving a kitchen should be easy - get someone else to do it. Alas...</p>
            </blockquote>





	On the occasion of moving in with an unfinished kitchen...

**Author's Note:**

  * For [murphybabe](https://archiveofourown.org/users/murphybabe/gifts).



Doyle scowled. The fitters were late, the surfaces were damaged, it was halfway through June, and all in all he was regretting ever suggesting to Bodie that they should sink cash into a holiday cottage well out of sight of London.

And now he could smell burning.

He stomped through the wreckage of the kitchen and opened the back door. In the patch of land designated 'garden' by virtue of its enclosure by a low stone wall, and apparently indistinguishable from the surrounding terrain – scrubby, bleak, and generally 'moorish' as Bodie had put it ("Look, more moor. Even more moor. Quite moorish. Ow, get off...") – Bodie was squatting down, patiently feeding a small fire. A neat stack of wood nearby suggested this was going to be a project of some hours' length.

"What's this? More rubbish to burn?" Doyle knew his tone was abrupt.

Bodie looked round at him, smiling indulgently as Doyle carried on. "Should put that bloody order form from the fitters on it, too, not worth the paper it's written on. We're not going to have a working kitchen this side of August. Dunno why I believed them..."

He trailed to a halt in the face of Bodie's amusement. Belligerently, "What?"

Bodie's grin increased.

Doyle paused for deliberation and then accepted defeat. "Okay. I'm being an arse about it again."

Bodie looked encouraging.

"So," - Doyle's voice was resigned - "What do I owe you this time?"

Bodie straightened up and considered the matter. "What do you owe me? Hmm... A promise not to mention that kitchen for the next three hours?" He regarded Doyle pensively. "Not too optimistic there. Okay. My choice of video tomorrow night?"

Doyle waggled his hand thoughtfully. "Do I get horribly molested on the sofa again?"

Bodlie pursed his lips. "I expect that could be arranged."

Doyle relaxed artfully against the door frame and nodded. "Okay. Your choice of video it is. And horrible molestation." His attention returning to the present, he straightened and gestured at the fire. "So what's all this?"

"Oh..." Bodie was vague. "Just an idea."

Doyle didn't move. "Go on."

"Thought I might try cooking on a fire. Take the pressure off about the kitchen."

Doyle laughed. "You can't resist it, can you? Any opportunity to put your skills to use."

"Nah, seriously, Ray. Got my fire. Got my ingredients." He gestured at paper bags obviously containing produce from the local shops.

"Oh yeah?" Doyle finally emerged from the building to pick his way across the ground. He reached for them. "What's in them?"

"Spoil all my surprises, you do," Bodie observed.

Doyle had opened the bags. He produced a Comice pear. "Pears? In June?"

"Had to look hard for pears," agreed Bodie.

Doyle gave him a quizzical look. "Okay. And..."

He rummaged in the other bag. "Not a chicken. Too small for that..." He started to laugh. "You idiot. You complete... This is a bloody partridge, isn't it?"

"You guessed." Bodie sounded satisfied.

"You remembered." Doyle sounded bemused.

"Course I did." Bodie was affronted. "Was a great start to Christmas, that. Thought they might be another good start here."

Doyle put the partridge down and stepped towards Bodie, then paused and let his gaze wander around the landscape. They might be far from CI5 and Cowley's watchful eye here – indeed, this was half of the reason to buy the place – but their caution was engrained.

"Looks pretty quiet," offered Bodie, "But..."

Doyle's mouth twisted. "Yeah. You comin' in, then?"

"Let me get my fire going first. Ah, there we are." Bodie made a fractional adjustment to his handiwork, and then straightened. "That'll do it. Come on, then, you can say thank you inside."

Doyle turned obediently, and led the way. On the way, another question was pressing at him. "Hang on. It's June. Where did you get a partridge? Are we going to have neighbours beating on the door and yelling about shooting seasons?"

"No, no," Bodie reassured him.

"But you can't go shooting – did you bring a shotgun or something? I never saw the case in the car. How—"

"Ray," interrupted Bodie. "Shut up." He bustled Doyle through the door.

As soon as they were inside, Bodie found a way to divert Doyle's attention.

Later that afternoon, they rescued the partridge and the pears, and celebrated new beginnings.

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was written for murphybabe, who provided the raw ingredients in more than one sense: the partridge and the pears came from a story of hers, and the kitchen, regrettably, from her experience...


End file.
